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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28829952">Touching My Hand</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl'>firstdegreefangirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Developing Relationship, Fluff, Funny how that works, Getting Together, Holding Hands, Inspired by Be More Chill, Internal Monologue, M/M, Miscommunication, Overthinking, Songfic, all of their problems are solved when they talk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:55:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,573</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28829952</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>But who has the time to think about falling in love with his best friend?  </p>
<p>Until, of course, his best friend is sitting just inches away from him, his hand turned up in the middle of that space, fingers curled loosely around his palm.  </p>
<p>It looks like an invitation, just the right amount of space for Eddie to fit his own hand against Buck’s.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>238</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Touching My Hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For those who don't know me, I kinda really like Broadway. And there's a cut song from Be More Chill that's just a thought spiral about handholding (I'll link at the end). So this is that, but Buddie. Also, a reference to one of my favorite SNL sketches. </p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eddie tosses a greasy paper plate onto the coffee table and leans back, settling into the couch. He kicks a foot up to rest against the edge of the table, nudging the empty pizza box forward enough to jostle the beer bottles sitting around it.  </p>
<p>He and Buck freeze, ignoring the flickering TV screen in favor of staring at the bottles while they wobble. It’s not like there’s anything either of them could do; they’re not going to be able to dive down fast enough to catch anything if it falls. Besides, the bottles are empty, switched out for water so no one is trying to fight fires through a hangover tomorrow. Some things, they’ve both learned the hard way, are better left to the histories of their younger selves.  </p>
<p>The bottles settle without tipping, everything going still again, just in time for the late-night talk show they’re watching to turn to another commercial break.  </p>
<p>Buck relaxes again, sitting in the middle of his cushion with one leg sprawled up over the side of the couch. The fingers of one hand are drumming idly against his stomach as he leans back, a steady rhythm Eddie can see more than he can hear.  </p>
<p>His other arm rests between them, his elbow digging into the couch cushion, helping to support his bodyweight.  </p>
<p>There’s half a foot or so between them, but Eddie is acutely aware of each and every bit of that space. It’s been happening more and more often lately, the way he notices everything about Buck, everything around Buck. Deep down, he knows what it is, that he hasn’t felt this <em>aware </em>of anyone since he’d first met Shannon.  </p>
<p>But who has the time to think about falling in love with his best friend?  </p>
<p>Until, of course, his best friend is sitting just inches away from him, his hand turned up in the middle of that space, fingers curled loosely around his palm.  </p>
<p>It looks like an invitation, just the right amount of space for Eddie to fit his own hand against Buck’s.  </p>
<p>He wants to. It wouldn't even be that hard, just to reach over and slide their fingers together. He could do it, he knows he could. </p>
<p>But he doesn’t want to. Because as much as he wants to hold Buck’s hand, he can’t be sure that Buck wants his hand to be held. Or, at least, to be held by Eddie. He’s tactile enough that Eddie is pretty sure he wouldn’t reject the concept of hand-holding, not when he’s so free with hugs and shoulder bumps and hands sliding across shoulders as he walks behind Eddie at work.  </p>
<p>And somehow, that makes it worse. Because if Buck rejected it, there’s no way he’d be rejecting the idea of hand-holding. He’d be rejecting <em>Eddie.</em> </p>
<p>But Eddie wants to hold his hand. And he knows Buck well enough to know that he’s been looking at Eddie lately. Not necessarily differently than he’s looked at him before, but enough that Eddie notices, enough that he’s becoming familiar with the way Buck’s eyes feel from across the room.  </p>
<p>Besides, their hands have touched plenty of times before. They brush up against each other if they’re walking too closely, reaching for the ketchup at the same time, any number of perfectly platonic work scenarios. Hell, they’ve held hands before too, when one of them is catching the other, saving him from falling  </p>
<p>Shit, they’re both grown men. Surely he can reach over there and take ahold of Buck’s hand. If Buck likes it, awesome. Eddie put himself out there and it paid off. If Buck hates it, they can figure out where they go next, probably without ruining everything they’ve built up until this point. </p>
<p>They’ll get through it, if Buck turns him down. People make advances on each other every day, and not everyone says yes, but the world keeps spinning. Worst case scenario, they can talk about it and work things out together. </p>
<p>Because that’s how adults handle things, right? With maturity and understanding and all the other things he’s trying to teach Chris how to have. He thinks of Chris, how he wants him to grow up taking risks and going after the things he wants.  </p>
<p>He doesn’t want to be a hypocrite, and the thought is almost enough to get his hand to move. But he also knows the importance of taking the <em>right </em>risks, how one wrong move can change everything, and not necessarily for the better.  </p>
<p>What Eddie needs, he thinks, is a middle ground. Some way to test the waters, like pressing one foot carefully on a stair to make sure it’ll hold his weight without dropping him into the flames.  </p>
<p>He’s already been burned enough. </p>
<p>So he reaches over slowly, fingers inching across the couch carefully enough that he hopes Buck won’t notice. It’s almost painful, moving this gradually without letting himself back out and take his hand back.  </p>
<p>He doesn’t pull away, though, keeps sliding his fingers over the soft material of the cushions until his little finger bumps up against the outside of Buck’s. Eddie rests it there for a moment, just barely touching, but Buck doesn’t react.  </p>
<p>Maybe he didn’t notice. Maybe Eddie played it too cool, and too casual, and Buck didn’t even notice that their fingers are touching. It’s a featherlight touch, maybe he thought it was a gnat or something. That’s probably why he hasn’t moved, because surely if he knows it’s Eddie, he’d have the decency to actually reject him, not lead him on by letting Eddie brush their fingers together. </p>
<p>So he ups the ante. He waits until Buck chuckles at something on the TV – he has no idea what; his entire world has narrowed to him and Buck and the spot where their fingers are touching. He doesn’t know if it’s even funny, but Buck thinks it is, so it must be. He trusts Buck on these things. On everything, really, but especially this. </p>
<p>Eddie laughs too, and as he does, pushes his pinky forward until it’s looped over Buck’s. He tries to be nonchalant about it, is pretty sure he succeeds, but he’s watching Buck from the corner of his eye, waiting for his reaction. </p>
<hr/>
<p>When he feels something warm against his hand, Buck’s first thought is that he’s probably imagining things. It’s a phantom blanket, or the distant memory of a warm coffee mug.  </p>
<p>When he looks down and sees Eddie’s fingers pressed against his, their pinkies looped together, his brain short-circuits.  </p>
<p><em>Eddie is touching his hand. Eddie’s hand is touching his hand. Their hands are touching. He and Eddie are touching hands. Holding hands, practically, with the way their pinkies are intertwined. </em> </p>
<p><em>But why?</em> </p>
<p>They’re not hand-holders. Not with each other, at least. Not like this. Only in situations where it’s necessary, normal places, like at work. When they have to, because Buck will swallow his feelings and hold Eddie’s hand if it keeps his best friend from literally falling through a fire.  </p>
<p>He’s always so careful not to get attached to the way Eddie’s fingers feel around his, not to let himself get carried away. Because he wants this, all the time, as much as he can get it.  </p>
<p>But he can’t have it, because he and Eddie aren’t the friends who hold each other’s hands. </p>
<p>Except tonight, apparently, they are.  </p>
<p>Buck looks up from their hands, chancing a glance at Eddie’s face. He’s looking straight forward, focused intently on the television. He isn’t moving, isn’t paying Buck any attention.  </p>
<p>It was probably an accident. He probably just shifted on the couch and his hand landed on top of Buck’s and he didn’t even notice. Buck’s hand just happened to be in the way of Eddie’s, where he dropped it blindly when he finished eating his pizza.  </p>
<p>The way their little fingers fit perfectly together? A coincidence, almost for sure.  </p>
<p>He thinks about turning his hand over, pushing his palm up against Eddie’s and holding on until the universe makes them let go. It would be so easy to just rotate his wrist and take the contact a step further. </p>
<p>Or, he’d flip his hand over and it would get Eddie’s attention. And once that happens, Eddie might realize that he’s holding hands with Buck, and he might let go. </p>
<p>So for now, the best idea is for Buck not to move a muscle. He’ll sit here, perfectly still, pretend like he has any idea what’s going on around him, and soak up every second he can, sear this moment into his memory. </p>
<p>That way, even when it’s over and their friendship has gone back to normal, he’ll still remember exactly how it feels. </p>
<p>Just this once, he’ll let himself relish in this, memorize the feeling. It’s cool, it’s fine, he can be chill like this.  </p>
<p>This can be good enough, has to be good enough, if he doesn’t want to ruin the best friendship he’s ever had.  </p>
<hr/>
<p>Buck still hasn’t moved, and Eddie can feel the knot building up in his stomach. He flicks his eyes over again, sneaks a tiny peek at Buck.  </p>
<p>He’s probably imagining it, but he thinks he sees Buck’s gaze flicking away from their hands to stare across the room. </p>
<p>Or, maybe Buck did notice. </p>
<p>Eddie doesn’t breathe for a second, waits to see if Buck is going to react this time.  </p>
<p>But then he doesn’t, and Eddie knows he’s let the contact drag on for too long. Clearly, Buck isn’t interested, and is just too nice to reject Eddie outright. He’s willing to put up with the unwanted touch so Eddie doesn’t feel bad about it.  </p>
<p>He should pull his hand away. It doesn’t matter how much he wants to, how comfortable he is here, even just touching Buck’s pinky. If Buck isn’t OK with this, than neither is Eddie. The last thing he ever wanted to do was make Buck uncomfortable, but even the best intentions can go drastically wrong.  </p>
<p>So he needs to let go, let Buck have his hand back. It’s not Eddie’s to hold, not if Buck doesn’t want him to. He swallows against the lump in his throat, tries to tune back into the TV before he can let tears burn hot in his eyes. </p>
<p>He doesn't want Buck to see the disappointment he feels. If his feelings are unrequited, that’s for him to come to terms with, not Buck. But he doesn’t want to prolong his own heartbreak, drag things out longer than he must, now that he’s come to terms with what has to happen.  </p>
<p>His palms sting under the force he uses to slam them together. The resulting smack echoes through the room and Buck startles, his shoulders drawing in and his neck going stiff as he turns his head to look at Eddie. </p>
<p>For a second, he feels bad for disrupting Buck, but then he remembers that he’d probably crossed that bridge when he reached across the sofa.  </p>
<p>Buck doesn’t say anything, just contorts his face into something that’s half-glare, half-confusion. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” Eddie shrugs apologetically with one shoulder. “There was a bug. I got it.” He tacks the last sentence on as an afterthought, running his hands up and down the thighs of his jeans. He settles them in the middles of his legs just as Buck rolls his eyes. </p>
<p>“Gross, you could at least wash your hands, dude.” Something in his voice sounds strained. He’s forcing the humor, trying to make things sound normal. Eddie can tell, because he knows Buck better than that, and it makes his chest go tight. </p>
<p>Because of his stupidity, his best friend can’t just act normally around him. He couldn’t keep it together, and now Buck has to think about how he should or shouldn’t behave.  </p>
<p>When Eddie finally talks himself into looking at Buck again, out the corner of his eye, he’s looking anywhere except back at Eddie.  </p>
<p>Goddammit. </p>
<p>If he could just go back and have his last three minutes over again, catch himself in a time loop until he can get this moment right, he’d relive it a thousand times over. And not in a single redo would he reach for Buck’s hand.  </p>
<hr/>
<p>The first thing Buck feels when Eddie pulls his hand away is the cold. It’s not particularly chilly; Eddie has always kept a warm house, but his pinky feels like ice when the air hits it. His fingers hadn’t been cold before, but they are now, immediately missing Eddie’s touch. </p>
<p>He hadn’t realized his friend was so warm. </p>
<p>Then there’s a noise, shaking him out of his thoughts. He looks over and sees the very end of Eddie clapping his hands together in the middle of the air, for seemingly no reason. Buck pulls a face, trying to figure out what Eddie is doing, without having the words to ask.  </p>
<p>Besides, if he opens his mouth, he’s afraid that the only thing he’ll say is “why aren’t you holding my hand anymore?” </p>
<p>Eddie says something about a bug, but it doesn’t take a genius to tell that he’s making it up.  </p>
<p>He just didn’t want to touch Buck anymore. As soon as he realized what was happening, he had to find a reason to pull away, cut off the connection immediately.  </p>
<p>Because he couldn’t stand to be touching Buck anymore, probably never meant for their hands to bump together in the first place.  </p>
<p>Buck gulps, trying to swallow his own heartbreak, and looks over at Eddie.  </p>
<p>Eddie, who is staring at his own hands, wrapped around the middle of his own thighs, tiny wrinkles in the fabric where his fingers are digging into his skin. He’s watching them closely, like they might do something the moment he looks away.  </p>
<p>Something like reach for Buck again, betray himself with another touch he doesn’t want.  </p>
<p>But why wasn’t he looking at his hands when they were pressed together? Is the idea of touching Buck really so revolting to him that he can’t stand to <em>look </em>at it? They’ve touched plenty of times before: little casual brushes at work, the tightest hugs anyone has ever given him, more moments than he can count. So why would Eddie choose <em>now </em>to start caring? </p>
<p>The only answer Buck can come up with is that Eddie doesn’t want to think about the implications of their hands touching like this, for no reason but the sake of contact, just the two of them, alone together on Eddie’s couch. </p>
<p>He supposes that – to a passerby, someone who doesn't know either of them – the gesture could look romantic. Buck wouldn’t mind if it did, would give almost anything for Eddie to willingly reach for him with those connotations. But Eddie doesn’t want that, and if Buck didn’t know it before, he does now. And even so, it’s hardly the closest they’ve ever been, so he isn’t sure why this one mattered more than any other.  </p>
<p>Maybe the positioning? The way Eddie’s finger had ended up on top of Buck’s, almost holding onto it? Surely that hadn’t been a coincidence, even if Eddie hadn’t intended to stretch toward him in the first place.  </p>
<p>And how could Eddie have done that on accident, anyway? His hand is way over here; he’d have had to reach for it deliberately, not just bump it on his way to reach for something else that happens to be exactly where Buck had been sitting on the couch. </p>
<p>The more he thinks about it, the more it’s almost impossible that Eddie hadn’t meant to slide their fingers together. He had to have done it intentionally. </p>
<p>Was Eddie … trying to make a move? Does Buck have a chance?  </p>
<p>But he’d changed his mind, taken his hand back and started staring at it. So no, he probably doesn’t have a chance. If Eddie likes him, he wouldn’t have let go, right? </p>
<p>Unless he let go for some other reason. Maybe he was worried that his hand was going to get sweaty, since he keeps the house so warm. They could always turn down the thermostat and go back to holding hands, if that's the case. Or it could have been a spasm or something, a … pinky cramp he needed to stretch.  </p>
<p>There’s only one way for Buck to know for sure. </p>
<p>“What was that for?” He takes a deep breath and looks at Eddie. </p>
<p>“There was a bug. I told you, I got it.” Eddie doesn’t look back, and that’s when Buck knows there has to be something on his mind. He’s always looking at Buck, even when Eddie thinks he won’t notice, so there has to be some sort of meaning in how carefully he’s staring straight ahead now.  </p>
<p>“Eddie.” He says it again, quietly, but without an ounce of amusement in his voice. Buck doesn't want to play games, hear stories about made-up bugs or anything else.  He just wants to know why Eddie reached for his hand, and then why he let go so abruptly.  </p>
<p>Even if he doesn’t like the answer, he at least wants to know what it is. </p>
<p>“What?” Eddie finally looks at him, and Buck finds yet another surprise tonight in the look on his face. He looks scared, backed into a corner he doesn’t know how to find his way out of. Buck hates the idea that he did that to his best friend, but he pushes down the pang of guilt and plows on. </p>
<p>The only way out is through, after all. </p>
<p>“Not that. There wasn’t a bug.” Eddie’s eyes widen a little further when Buck calls him out on his lie, enough that it would almost be comical if Buck weren’t so concerned. </p>
<p>“I wasn’t … my … your hand …" Eddie looks down, moves his head enough to look back and forth between them, running his gaze across the path his hand took to reach Buck’s.  </p>
<p>“No,” Buck shakes his head. “Why’d you move it?”  </p>
<p>At that, Eddie’s head jerks back up so he can stare at Buck. His eyes narrow, flicking back and forth, reading some invisible piece of paper hanging between them as he tries to calculate his response.  </p>
<p>“You didn’t do anything,” he hesitates, turning his body a little bit toward the middle of the couch. “Did you … like it?” </p>
<p><em>Yes. God, yes, he liked it. The only thing he hadn’t liked was that they’d drawn the line at just a couple of fingers. And that the moment had ended.</em> </p>
<p>But he can’t say that, can’t bring himself to be so forward when he doesn’t know for sure how Eddie feels. He’s got a pretty good idea, just based on the hopeful edge Eddie’s tone had taken on. Still, he’s not ready to put it all on the line quite yet.  </p>
<p>He can meet Eddie in the middle though.  </p>
<p>“I … didn’t hate it.” Buck takes a deep breath and cocks his head slightly as he smiles at Eddie. “But, you know, I don’t think I really had time to make a good judgement call.”  </p>
<p>Eddie’s lips press together into a fine line, but his eyes are shining with a smile.  </p>
<p>“Yeah? Well, we wouldn’t want you having to make an uninformed decision.” His shoulders shake with silent laughter, and Buck can’t help the way he grins back and chuckles too. </p>
<p>“Nope,” he feels the smile fade into a smirk. “Gotta make sure I get the full hand-holding experience.”  </p>
<p>He slides his hand across the cushion, flipping it over until his palm is facing up. Eddie is still staring at his face, so he jerks his head down to redirect his attention. Then, when Eddie’s gaze has shifted, he wiggles his fingers. </p>
<p>It feels like time slows down, but it can’t be more than a couple of seconds before Eddie’s fingers are slotting themselves between Buck’s. Buck curls his fingers around the back of Eddie’s hand and smiles when Eddie squeezes gently. There’s a blush blooming across his cheeks; he can feel the heat under his skin, but he doesn’t try to hide it. There’s no use, not when Eddie sweeps his thumb across the back of his hand and he feels the tips of his ears start to burn.  </p>
<p>Buck looks up, only to find that Eddie is already smiling at him, a tiny expression that makes the moment feel a thousand times more intimate than it actually is. Hell, the TV is still on behind them, some medication commercial playing itself out in Buck’s periphery.  </p>
<p>But he hardly notices it for the way Eddie is looking at him, lips pursed and nose wrinkled. He looks <em>delighted, </em>no other word fitting the light shining in his eyes.  </p>
<p>“So?” He asks, even though it sounds like he already knows the answer.  </p>
<p>He does, and they both know it, but Buck won’t give in that easily. </p>
<p>“I think …” he begins, then hesitates, holding off until Eddie squeezes his hand again, trying to get his attention. “I think that if we’re going to hold hands all the time – which I’d sure like to do – we should probably go on a date.”  </p>
<p>“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyebrows lift toward his hairline. He chuckles, but it’s mostly air as he wedges his tongue in one corner of his mouth. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Buck echoes, taking his own chance to tighten his grip on Eddie’s hand. “But only if you keep touching my hand.” </p>
<p>“As long as you keep touching mine.” </p>
<p>“Deal.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Touching my hand: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UWNuuCt83Xc</p>
<p>See? I <i>am</i> capable of writing fluff!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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